Downpour
by scubysnak
Summary: Even when you break up, you're not completely done with one another. You're still a part of each other. CS. Ch 10 up
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

"Sara."

The hesitancy with which she said my name told me that showing up on her doorstep was unwelcome. The immediate crossing of her arms over her chest conveyed both her uneasiness at my presence and her need to protect herself. She shifted her weight and leaned against the door frame with her shoulder, obviously expecting me to say something.

As I took in her appearance—disheveled hair and an old Harvard T-shirt that barely came down to the top of her thighs—I momentarily forgot what had brought me to her door at this late hour. My eyes moved from hers and down her body. Just as I reached her knees, the abrupt sound of her clearing her throat brought me back to the present.

I jumped as lightning struck and thunder boomed somewhere in the distance. Until that moment, I hadn't even realized that I was drenched. I had no idea how long I had stood outside my truck after pulling in her driveway before working up the nerve to knock on her door. And yet, there I stood.

"Sara?"

As my name rolled of her lips again, I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. Deciding that it would be wise to make a hasty retreat, I turned on my heel and took the three steps down onto her walkway.

"Sara!"

I froze and against my better judgment turned around. My hair was clinging to my face in dark ringlets and my clothes were like a second skin on my body. It was difficult to see as the rain moved over my eyelids in heavy, stinging sheets.

She looked like an angel, backlit by the subtle glow come from her front door. She stepped onto her porch, still sheltered by the protective overhang of the roof as the lightning streaked across the sky again.

The thunder rumbled, shaking the windows and weakening my defensives. I blinked harshly against the rain and had to tilt my head to hear what she was saying over the falling rain.

"Why?"

"I had to see you. I wanted to make sure you were okay," I shouted at her.

Even through the steady downpour, I could see the glassing of her eyes as the tears began to fill them.

"Don't. Don't you dare come here like you give a damn. If you did…"

"I'm worried about you," I countered as I moved closer to her. "Gil told me that Avery Holmes got off on a technicality and then she sent you flowers."

"What does it matter to you? You broke up with me! You ended things because you're a fucking coward and you couldn't deal with the possibility of someone—of me—loving you for who you are," she said coldly, punctuating each word with a poke to my chest.

Suddenly, I was acutely aware that I was soaked and that we were standing in her front yard shouting at each other at three o'clock in the morning, I merely nodded and pulled her toward me, wrapping her in a tight hug. At first she stiffened, then relaxed in my arms before weakly asking, "Stay?"

It was a request that I did not have the power to deny. I kissed the top of her head and gave her a gentle squeeze before leading us inside. Locking the door behind us and turning off the porch light, I let her lead me up the stairs to the room we had shared so many times. I was no longer her lover, but I could still give her whatever it was that she needed—or wanted.

**A/N: I started on this weeks ago. I just had this image of Sara in my mind and I tried to force a story from it. I wasn't as successful as I'd like to have been. So now, instead of a decent one-shot, I'm going to be forced to either (1) write several smaller chapters that connect in some weird sorta way. [Anyone who's ever gone through a break-up knows that even if you break up, you come back together (sometimes over and over again). It makes sense to me and hopefully, it'll make sense for you (the reader) as well.] or (2) write this as a longer story (which I don't really want to do since I have too many that are unfinished as it is—and yes, Immi, I know I need to update ALL of them soon). **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

"I can't believe you forced me to sit through that entire movie," I laughed as the ebony haired goddess beside me snaked her arm around my waist as we waded through the mass of bodies in the theatre trying to make their way out.

Her grip around my waist tightened as she snorted. "Oh come on, Sar. It wasn't that bad."

"I dunno," I offered as I pulled away slightly, not completely comfortable with the closeness of the woman next to me. "Vampires. Teenagers. It's just a little too cliché for me. Now, aliens, explosions, machines traveling back in time from the future—those are movies I can watch. But this…."

"Sara!"

I looked up, startled at the enthusiastic screaming of my name from across the movie theatre. And there, busy rushing toward us was Lindsey Willows and Catherine. The teen ran right up to me and threw her arms around me as she squeezed tightly.

"I was just asking Mom," she glanced back over her shoulder at Catherine, "if we should have invited you to come to the movie with us. I remember how much you loved the books and how you promised to take me to see the movie when it came out because Mom said that there was no way in the world she was sitting through a movie surrounded by," she turned to Catherine, "what was it you said, Mom?"

Catherine just shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

"Horny, vamp wanna-be teens," I said as I laughed at the memory.

Inwardly I groaned, especially after having just expressed my distaste for the genre to Traci, my date for the evening. Before I could respond to Lindsey, Traci piped up, "Babe, I thought you said you hated all things associated with vampires and teenagers."

I pulled back from Lindsey and shot the dark-haired woman a warning glance. Unfortunately, she didn't catch on.

Instead, she continued, "Sara squirmed throughout the entire movie. She asked over and over if I was bored yet and could we leave. She hated it."

"Sara loved _Twilight_," Lindsey responded as she crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a very Catherine-like pose. Then she turned back to me and jerked her head in Traci's direction, "Who is she?"

Traci slid her arm back around my waist a little too possessively for my taste. Catherine had been watching this entire exchange without so much as uttering a single word. I looked from Catherine's azure eyes back down to the miniature version of her standing directly in front of me.

"This is, uh, Traci. Traci, this is Lindsey and her mother, Catherine Willows. Catherine and I work together."

I knew the smirk was forming before I ever saw it. Lindsey added, "They don't just work together. She used to date my mom, too. That kinda makes her my other mom. So are you her girlfriend now? And how old are you?"

A part of me cringed at what Lindsey was saying, but the larger part of me beamed to know that she had thought—or still thought—of me as her other mom.

"That's enough, Lindsey." Catherine stepped in and put her hands on Lindsey's shoulders. "We should be heading into the theatre now. You know how much you love those trivia questions they show before the movies."

She gave Lindsey a gentle shove in the direction of the theatre before smiling sadly at me. Then her eyes travelled to Traci and she held out her hand, "It's nice to meet you, Traci."

She pulled back her hand and in the most cordial and steady voice she could muster she added, "You two enjoy the rest of your evening. I'm on my way to sit in a theatre full of, and I quote, horny, vamp-wanna-be teens. Wish me luck."

Before I could respond, she had blended into the mass of undulating bodies weaving along the corridor of various theatres.

The gentle tug at my waist reminded me that my focus shouldn't be on Catherine.

I sighed heavily as my companion and I headed into the cool, Vegas night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

"Are you sure you're okay? You don't need to go to the hospital?"

Nick's protective streak was a mile wide and as annoying as hell.

"I'm fine. Just don't let _you know who_ find out what happened. Please, I'm begging you." I pleaded with him not to tell Catherine. Even though we had broken up almost two months ago, the guys still acted like we were together sometimes. They meant well—they really did. I think somewhere in the backs of their minds they had reconciled that it was their sole purpose to try and fix what had happened between us and bring us back together.

I looked up at his reflection in the mirror as I dabbed at the cut and slow but steady stream of blood trickling down over my cheekbone. He shifted his weight to his other foot and reluctantly agreed.

"It's not like I have to tell her anyway," he countered. "She's gonna wanna know where you got what's going to turn into a pretty nice shiner there, Sar. And then you're gonna be in even more trouble for not telling her, girl."

I knew he was right. He was _almost_ always right. It was an unwritten rule though—I had to ask him not to tell her about stuff that I knew would worry her. Inside, however, I really wanted her to burst through the door he was blocking and rush to my side to make sure I really was okay.

"We're not together anymore. I don't owe her any explanations. Besides, it's not like it matters anyway. She's gotten too close to suspects before, too."

I had lowered my head once again to splash water over the cut and didn't notice that Nick had left his perch in the doorway.

"If I recall correctly, every time I got too close to a suspect you had something to say about it."

Shit. I snapped my head up and looked in the mirror. Standing where Nick had been was Catherine, and she had obviously heard part of what I had meant for his ears only. I silently cursed him for his lack of a head's up on her entrance and his departure.

I noticed her eyes narrow and before I could respond to her, she took four quick steps to my side and spun me around. Her fingers moved cautiously over my cheekbone.

"Oh, Sar," her voice was tender and loving as she invaded my personal space. "Sweetie, what happened?"

She took the cloth from my hand and wiped carefully along the edge of the laceration. I couldn't help but wince as soon as she applied the slightest pressure. And the endearment she had long ago ceased to use with me nearly brought me to tears as I realized—for the first time—that this could have been much worse than a cut and an impending black eye.

I couldn't answer her. All I could do was bite my bottom lip and close my eyes. I knew I had fucked up. I had been careless. And the last thing I wanted—or needed—was for her to point that out. It would just be one more reason…one more justification…

"Are you going to tell me what happened or do I need to ask Nick about it?"

She lifted my chin to force me to look at her and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind my ear before she smiled sadly. I closed my eyes, unwilling to see the disappointment I knew would taint her blue eyes.

"It was nothing, Catherine. I," words were failing me. "I just said the wrong thing at the scene and found myself a little too close to the fist of a suspect."

Her hands left me briefly and I heard her step away. I was just about to open my eyes again when her hands once again fluttered over the raw, bruising skin of my cheek.

"This may hurt, but it should keep you from needing stitches." She placed a few Steri-Strips over my cut and then let her hands glide down to take mine. "If the swelling doesn't go down, we may need to go and get an X-Ray. We don't want you walking around with a fractured cheekbone or eye socket."

I could only nod my agreement as my ability to speak had deserted me with her close proximity and gentle touches.

"Be careful, okay? I can't lose you," she said with a squeeze of my hands and a fleeting kiss on my uninjured cheek before turning and leaving me standing there leaning back against a sink.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

"Is this seat taken?" I smiled as I approached my former lover. She wore a little black dress like no one else could and tonight was no exception. Her hair fell around her face in soft, golden curls and her makeup was flawless.

To say that she was shocked to see me was an understatement. Her eyes immediately began to scan the room, obviously looking for someone else. "Sara, what are you doing here?"

I set my jaw and shook my head, feeling like the back half of a donkey. "You didn't know she invited me, did you?"

I waited for her to answer, but when she didn't, I took note of the nervous look on her face and followed her line of sight. Coming toward us was McDreamy's much taller, thicker twin. He was dressed in jeans, a button down shirt and a sport jacket. She immediately rose to her feet and let him pull her into a hug.

"I'm sorry I'm running a little late," he said in a slight Irish brogue as he planted a lingering kiss on the top of her head, all the while keeping his eyes trained on me.

I was an intruder—an unexpected and unsolicited guest. I smiled and did a slight nod of my head before extending my hand, "I'm Sara Sidle. Catherine and I work together."

He barely pulled away from Catherine, while grasping my hand firmly and pulling me toward him, "I know who you are. I'm Finnegan McConnel. My friends call me Finn, but you can call me Finnegan."

No sooner had he dropped my hand than he grasped Catherine's upper arm and steered her toward a pair of seats closer to the stage. He looked back over his shoulder at me twice to make sure I didn't follow. I guess that was his way of putting me in my place.

I sat at the rear of the auditorium, far away from Catherine and her new boyfriend. The last thing I wanted to do was give him another excuse to manhandle her.

Lindsey was magnificent. I know I might be biased, but she was by far the best Juliet I had seen in a play. As soon as the play was over, my phone vibrated on my hip. I had a message from Lindsey.

_Come backstage. I want to see you!_

I groaned and closed my eyes, tossing my head back. I knew that Catherine would be backstage with _Finnegan_ and the last thing I wanted to do was bump into them considering the icy welcome I had received from her and the glares I had received from him. Reluctantly, I hit reply and sent a message back to her.

_Sorry, kiddo. Don't think your mom or assface would appreciate me being back there. Pizza one night this week? You did good. I'm proud of you. Call me!_

XXX

"You shouldn't have come last night. Lindsey should have never invited you. You're not her parent," Catherine glared at me as she blocked my exit from the locker room.

Her words stung. Actually, they cut deeply. But I think they were intended to, so she didn't miss her mark.

I bit my lip, a bad habit of mine, to keep from saying anything. When I had ended things, the one thing she had asked was that I not forget how much I meant to Lindsey and to make time for her when I could. I thought I was doing that. It was, after all, Lindsey who had invited me and had even had a ticket reserved for me. The moment I realized that Catherine didn't know I was coming, I should have left. The look on her face had clearly conveyed I wasn't welcome—despite her daughter's wishes.

She moved to let me out the door and as I passed through it she said, "One more thing, Sidle. No pizza later this week with her. Finn doesn't think it's such a good idea for you to spend time with Lindsey unsupervised."

I spun around, now on the verge of tears from sheer anger. "Finn doesn't think it's a good idea? How long have you known this guy? You're letting him make decisions about Lindsey for you? And what does that mean—that it's not such a good idea for me to spend time with Lindsey unsupervised?"

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively and looked as if she was choosing her words carefully, mulling over exactly what she wanted to say and how best to say it.

"It's just that with you being," she shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head to the side, "what you are, he's worried that Lindsey will think it's okay. He's just looking out for her."

I grabbed her wrist and pushed her sleeve up, revealing a bruise on her arm. I snorted and looked from it up to her eyes, just as she jerked her arm from my grasp. "That's great that he's looking out for her. But who's looking out for you?"

She looked away from me to keep me from seeing the tears I knew were filling her eyes. Her voice cracked when she said, "Just let it go, Sar. Please?"

Shaking my head, I turned left the locker room. As I was heading back to my apartment, I hit the second number on my speed dial. It only rang once before a familiar voice picked up.

"Brass."

"Hey, Jim. It's Sara. I need a favor."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

There was a time when takeout menus littered my refrigerator door and every number that was on speed dial was to a restaurant that would deliver. That was before Catherine and Lindsey and home cooked meals and discussions over delicious food. That was then.

And this is now. This is me—sitting in what was formerly my favorite little diner enjoying a meal. A diner I haven't been in since the morning I broke both of our hearts. It's been five months since the breakup. Five months. Five. Months.

I've tried going out with other people—talk about a waste of time (and money). It's hard to enjoy the company of another person when you find your eyes drawn to every blonde who walks by—hoping that it might be her— both grateful and disappointed when it isn't.

And that's where I was, in a booth at the back with a book in hand when she walked in. Things have been what you might describe as icy (at best) since the whole Finnegan thing. It probably didn't help matters that I had Jim run the bastard's name through the system. And when it had turned up an TRO against him filed by a former girlfriend, Catherine had been irate that I butted into her business.

Her anger, however unjustified, was something I could live with since Jim made it a point to have a "talk" with the limey that scared him into ending things with Catherine. She never said anything about it to me and I never saw another mark on her. The guys told me later on that he had basically never called her again and wouldn't accept her calls. I didn't want her to be alone—she thrived in a relationship. But I didn't want Lindsey living through what I had as a child and Finnegan reminded me too much of my father in our brief encounter for me to think that he was anything other than an abusive prick.

I sat and watched Catherine interacting with the waitress while she sat at the counter. She had once told me that this place had the best French toast in the entire universe. Having majored in Physics, I tried to explain to her the limitless bounds of the universe and the unlikelihood of her statement being valid. And in true Catherine fashion, she had bounded out of bed, tossed on clothes and forced me to come to this hole-in-the-wall diner with her. I can't help but smile even now at the memory of how her face lit up when I took that first bite.

'_My god, Sidle. You didn't make that much noise in bed last night,' she had quipped as I shoved another syrup-covered bite into my mouth._

It's weird. Even now, I can always sense when her eyes are on me. But she never once turned around the entire time I was watching her. I guess while she's still under my skin, I've long ago left hers.

The waitress sat a to-go box in front of her and a cup of coffee. She flashed that familiar thousand-watt smile and reached into her pocket for cash. Her smile fell away. I grabbed my bill and headed toward the register.

I was standing so close to her that I could smell her fabric softener, yet she never turned around.

"I'm sorry," she said to the waitress as she set her purse on the counter. "I could've sworn I had cash. You take credit cards right?"

The waitress just shook her head and tapped a hand-made sign on the front of the register that simply said _Cash Only_.

She dug through her purse and pockets once more, a frown and embarrassment painting her features so delicately.

I stepped up beside her, placed my bill on the counter and said to the waitress running the register, "This is together."

"Sara?"

I just turned my head slowly toward her and smiled, counting out the cash I needed to pay both bills.

She put her hand on mine to still the movements, "You don't have to."

I took a breath to calm my raging heartbeat before finally saying, "I know I don't, but I want to. After all, they do have the best French toast in the universe."

She never said thank you, but she did smile as she grabbed her box and coffee and walked out the door.

I was watching her climb into her truck when the waitress's voice brought my attention back to her, "You know that toast is just some frozen stuff we buy, right?"

_**A/N: Many thanks to wee idgie for the idea for this chapter.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't owm 'em…**

I had agreed to one drink—just one. It was, after all, as Greg had pointed out, Nick's birthday and we had always gone for drinks. Grissom even managed to always show up for birthday drinks.

It had started out as one drink, but I quickly added another and then another and then another…

I suspected she was doing it on purpose. If it had two legs and it was on the dance floor, she was shimmying and shaking and gyrating against it.

I watched her the entire time. I wasn't oblivious to the guys watching me or the comments they made that they probably thought I couldn't hear. No, I was fully aware that I was 'staring' and that I needed to 'get a grip.' My favorite was that I just needed to 'get over her.' If only they knew…

When my beers turned into shots, Grissom had decided he'd had enough socializing to last him until the next birthday celebration. I saw his blurry figure stand just as he mumbled that someone needed to get me home safely.

I _think_ I was smiling as I tried my darnedest to sound serious, "Don't worry, Bugman. S'all taken care of. I'm going with one of them."

I'm pretty sure that's where the bump on my head came from because as I tried to point to several attractive women standing near the bar, I remember gracefully falling out of the chair I was sitting in.

And that's pretty much where my memory of the bar ends.

There are, however, snippets of events that happened next—like small flashbacks.

I remember sitting in a car—the strip moving by the window I was leaning against in a dazzling and blurring array of colors. A hand on my thigh. A voice somewhere through the fog. _"What the hell were you thinking drinking like that? You shouldn't be drinking at all."_

I remember the lights of the strip fading into clay roofs and manicured lawns and realizing that I wasn't so drunk that I didn't know I wasn't going home. And that voice again. _"Probably hadn't eaten all day…typical…" _

The car slowed to a stop. So did the voice —until the door opened. The soft body that the annoying voice belonged to pressed against mine, reaching across me to unfasten my seat belt.

"_You'd think at your age you'd know how to drink responsibly. But noooooo. All I wanted was to go out with the guys, have a couple of drinks, and dance my ass off. I didn't have to worry about Lindsey or rushing home. And instead, I'm stuck babysitting your ass."_

She grabbed my knees and turned me in the seat, pulling my legs out of the car.

"_You're worse than a child sometimes. You know that? And of course you're too drunk to even answer. You won't even remember any of this in the morning."_

I remember thinking that she smelled nice and closing my eyes to lock the memory away. I was enjoying the closeness of her body against mine and leaned more heavily against her as she half-drug me into the foyer of her house.

I remember being tossed back onto a bed. My shoes being pulled off. My shirt and pants coming off. My eyes were closed and she probably thought I had passed out because the voice had stopped.

The covers were pulled over me and her body slid in next to mine. Almost reverently, fingers moved over my face—touching my cheek and then my lips. As her fingers brushed along my lips, she barely whispered, "Why can't things just be like they were?"

Even through my drunken stupor I heard it—it echoed the one sentiment I had been feeling since that morning one hundred and eighty-six days ago.

I fell asleep with her head on my shoulder and her hand over my heart.

When I woke up later that morning, I was alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

I dropped the plain white envelope on the table in front of her and stood nervously off to the side with my hands in my pockets. I was immediately second guessing my idea of handing them to her myself, wishing instead that I had just slipped them into her locker so that she could discover them without knowing who had left them.

Who was I kidding? She'd have dusted the damn envelope and ran the prints. And then I'd be in even deeper shit with her because I should have known that she'd be competent enough to print it. Hell, she'd probably even contact the ticket booth and find out how the tickets were paid for and then run the credit card number to find out it belonged to me. And then…I was pulled from my musings by her voice.

"What's this?"

I was fidgeting as I looked down at the blonde who was now holding the envelope I had debated giving her for weeks.

"Those are tickets," I answered flatly as I removed my hands from my pockets and crossed my arms over my chest.

She pulled the three tickets out of the plain white package and rolled her eyes. "I know that, Sara. I'm not stupid—no matter what Lindsey seems to think."

She read the writing on one ticket and then fanned them out. "You bought tickets for "Love" at the Mirage? Do you have any idea how expensive these are? What were you thinking?"

The incredulous look she shot me revealed that she obviously didn't know why I had bought them—or that she did and she was really pissed off. I decided to go with 'didn't know why I had bought them.'

"Remember last year for Lindsey's birthday? She wanted to go and you told her that there was no way you could afford the tickets? Well, I ordered them a while back—for her birthday."

I had ordered them when I thought that 'we' would take her for her birthday. I wasn't about to add that part though. Things had mellowed considerably between us in the last few weeks and I didn't want to do anything to upset the apple-cart again.

She touched her fingers to the top of each ticket, counting them off, "One, two, three. There are three tickets here, Sara."

Her eyes locked onto mine and I felt like I was suffocating. There was definitely a lack of oxygen in the room. I knew what she was wondering—or fearing. She was worried that I was trying to insinuate myself into her life—to take part in Lindsey's birthday.

"Just tell her they're from you, okay? Take her. Let her take a friend or you can take someone," I held my hands up to silence her so I could finish speaking. "She really wanted to go. And I know you did, too. Just go and have a good time. Please? Just…just take them, okay?"

She dropped her gaze and sighed heavily. I knew she was thinking—trying to decide what to do. I didn't want to give her an opportunity to respond, so I quickly turned on my heel and left the break room.

XXX

I was heading back into work that night when my cell rang.

"Sidle."

"Oh, my god, Sara! You didn't even call me to wish me a happy birthday," said the enthusiastic blonde on the other end of the line.

I was smiling in spite of myself. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I, uh, got tied up with work."

"Yeah, yeah. I had the best night ever."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "Did you? What did your mom do for your birthday that has you all keyed up?"

"She only got me the best birthday present—EVER! She bought tickets to see "Love" and she let bring Cameron along with us."

Cameron was Lindsey's latest girl-crush. I know I'm probably exaggerating, but there were hundreds of photos of the two of them on both her MySpace and Facebook page. And I know teens are a little more fluid with their sexuality than they were when I was her age, but some of their poses…a bit compromising if I must say so. She better hope that her mom never sees some of those photos or there's no way she'll be able to talk her way out of the grounding that Cath will lay on her.

Inside, my heart was swelling to know that Lindsey enjoyed her birthday so much. I was also torn because I had planned to be a part of it. Daily I had regretted ending things with Cath, but none as much as I was at this moment.

"I'm glad you had such a good time—and that Cameron was with you. Look, I'm almost at the lab, so I have to go, okay? You can fill me in later?" I was on the verge of tears and knew that if I didn't get off the phone quickly, I'd end up crying like a blubbering idiot. My voice had already cracked with the last thing I said to her.

I could tell she had cupped her hand over the phone when she whispered, "Thank you, Sara. Lova ya."

She had barely ended the call when the tears began to flow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

I always volunteered to work holidays. Aside from Grissom, I was the only one without family to spend the holidays with. Nick usually either flew home or one of his sisters showed up in town. Rick spent it with some folks that he grew up with. Greg, well, who knew how Greg spent his holiday—and who wanted to know? Catherine had Lindsey, her sister, and her mom. So that left me and Grissom.

The look on his face this year when I told him I wanted off was priceless. He opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water. When he tried to weasel out of it, noting that everyone else already had plans, I stood my ground and told him that he'd have to find someone else—that for the last five years, I had worked every single holiday and for once, I was taking it off. The finality of my statement left no room for discussion. He just shrugged his shoulders and meekly said he'd do what he could to find someone else.

Honestly, I didn't have plans. No family to see, no tree to trim, no dinner to cook. Instead, I planned to spend my Christmas Eve night on the couch with a few Coronas, some leftover Chinese and every episode of 'Buffy' that I had DVRd in the last two months. If the Corona hit me right and the episodes had Eliza Dushku in them, I might be moved by the Christmas spirit to break out that vibe in my bottom drawer that had been collecting dust.

I was on my third Corona and my second episode of Buffy (sans Faith) when there were a pair of knocks on my door. I pressed pause and went to the door, opening it without even checking to see who it was.

"Catherine?" I stared in disbelief at the blonde standing in front of me.

A throat being cleared drew my attention to the slighter figure beside her. "Too busy noticing Mom to even see that I'm standing here, too, Sara?"

Catherine's face glowed as her lips curled into a smile. Lindsey slid past me and into the apartment, her iPod blaring in her ears and her cell phone in hand texting someone. I turned to see her plop down on the couch. She looked up once at the television, rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the cell phone in her hands.

"Is that thing fused to her hands now?" I tilted my head in the direction of the living room and Lindsey.

Catherine rolled her eyes and dismissed the texting. "She and the BFF Cameron have been fighting by text. Whatever happened to sleepovers, talking on the phone and passing notes in class?"

Catherine leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek before holding up two bags in her hands as well. "Anyway, I come bearing food," she said as she winked and squeezed past me just as Lindsey had.

I was confused, to say the least. I was still standing there when I sensed her watching me. I closed the door, locked it and turned around to find myself face to face with Catherine.

Both of her arms slid around my neck and my hands instantly went to her waist. My heart was beating madly in my chest and I know my cheeks were reddened.

She stepped closer, bringing our bodies flush against one another and then waggled her eyebrows at me and tipped her head upwards, drawing my attention to something she was holding in her hand over my head—mistletoe.

I looked at her warily, not sure that it was a good idea to go down this path. It'd been 9 months so far and if I closed my eyes and thought about, I could still remember exactly how her lips felt on mine…how she tasted…the little sounds she made. The thought alone was enough to send me into sensory overload. If I actually kissed her…

Sensing my dilemma she brushed her lips tentatively against mine and whispered, "Quit thinking and kiss me, Sara."

That was all the encouragement I needed as my grip on her waist tightened and my lips brushed against hers softly and then more deliberately. The mistletoe fell to the floor when she grabbed fistfuls of my hair. She whimpered quietly when I ran my tongue along her bottom lip before tugging on it lightly with my teeth. When I sucked it between my lips and flicked my tongue against it like I had done so many times on even more sensitive parts of her body, I felt her knees buckle slightly.

My hands drifted from her waist down over her ass and into her back pockets, pulling her even closer against me, earning a feral growl of pleasure at the contact our bodies made. I broke away from her lips and peppered her neck with lingering kisses before closing my lips over the sensitive spot under her ear and sucking delicately.

"God….Sara…."

I didn't get to hear the end of her declaration because a very loud and unhappy Lindsey reaffirmed her presence. "Okay, gross, you guys. The last thing a child _ever_ needs to see is her mom playing tonsil hockey with someone…even if it is Sara." She said the last part with a smile.

Cath leaned her head against my chest heavily, obviously embarrassed that Lindsey had seen (or heard) as much as she had.

Once her breathing was back to normal, she pulled away and walked toward the kitchen.

She started pulling out containers of food from the bags she brought with her. "Who's hungry?"

We were done with dinner and Catherine was washing what few dishes there were while Lindsey and I sat on the couch finishing another episode of Buffy.

Lindsey leaned over, popped one of her earbuds out and looked from the kitchen back to me, "She's just trying to butter you up. Alex," she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, "asked Mom to go away for New Years. She wants _you_ to watch me—and she thinks I don't know about Alex."

Something inside me snapped. She didn't have to fuck with my emotions to get me to do anything for Lindsey. All she had to do was ask.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

_**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews that many of you have left. I posted this on my profile, but will do so here as well. I will no longer accept anonymous reviews. **__**I mean, come on, having an account is about as anonymous as you can get. I could be your next door neighbor and you wouldn't know it. So why go all cloak and dagger to leave anonymous reviews? Oh, and another thing, if you're going to leave a review and attempt to flame me, you weaken your case by saying that you've read more than one of my stories. If you read one and it sucked, you should've stopped reading. There's no need to continue reading ALL of my stories if you think I am unoriginal and my writing is of poor quality. Now, having said that, let's get on with the story, shall we?**_

XXXX

"Can we talk?"

"If it's about the case, sure. If it's not, then no." I never bothered to lift my head to even acknowledge her. I had spoken very little to her in the last few days. Unfortunately, Gil had paired us up on a case together and that had forced us to interact. I, however, kept it strictly professional.

I heard the door shut behind me and her heels click across the floor as she moved closer to where I was sitting.

"I don't get it. Things were fine a few nights ago when I Lindsey and I came over for dinner." She pulled out a chair across from and sat down, clasping her hands together on top of the table. Her mouth widened into a large smile, "We kissed. We ate. And then, well, then you went distant again. What's going on?"

While she gave all the appearances of being calm and collected, I was anything but. I didn't want to have this conversation. I was much better at avoiding conversations like this. I closed my eyes and pushed my chair back from the table. As I went to stand, she reached across the table and took my hand in hers.

"What did I do? I think I deserve to know that much? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something I shouldn't have?" As if something finally clicked, her expression changed. "Oh. Are you seeing someone else? Is that what it is?"

I took a deep breath and shook my head. "I'm not seeing anyone, Cat."

"Then what is it? What did I do?"

I sat back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest. "How about you just cut the shit and just ask what it is you want to ask. You don't have to sit here and insult my intelligence or even act like you care."

"I'm asking you the only thing I want to ask you," she said as her voice raised an octave. "What the … what caused the sudden attitude from you directed at me?"

I stood up harshly, sending the chair I was sitting in careening backwards and falling against the floor. I turned the door handle and swung it open roughly.

"I'll keep Lindsey while you go on your little romantic getaway with Alex. All you had to do was ask to start with. You knew I'd do it."

Without waiting for a response, I tread heavily down the hall and out the back door of the lab. I didn't want a big ugly fight with Catherine. I had gotten those out of my system long ago when I found a much better way of taking out my frustrations on her.

No sooner had I lit the cigarette in my shaky hands than the door beside me opened and Cath stepped into the cool Vegas night beside me.

"I thought you quit." She took the Marlboro from my hand and dropped it on the ground, stubbing it out with the heel of her boot.

I exhaled the one drag I had taken off of the cancer-stick and leaned heavily against the building.

"I already told you I'd keep an eye on her while you're gone. Is there something else you want? Need me to drop you and Alex off at the airport, too?"

I knew I'd come undone even more if I looked at her. Instead, I focused my attention on the winter sky above me, counting stars.

"Sara, why do you think I'm going somewhere with Alex?"

I bit my tongue. I didn't want to rat Lindsey out. I wasn't about to tell Catherine that Lindsey was the one that told me

Even in the darkness I could see her working through the situation—after all, she did love solving puzzles.

"You were fine until after dinner. I was doing dishes and you were…Lindsey. What did she tell you?"

I stood mute. I wasn't about to sell Lindsey out.

"Sara. Tell me."

"What difference does it make? You're going out of town with some guy named Alex and I already said I'll watch Lindsey. She said that's the reason you came over on Christmas Eve."

Catherine chuckled.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh at me. I get it, okay?" I pushed myself off of the wall and took a few steps away from her. "I fucked up when I ended things. I get that. And I've regretted it every single day. But it was for the best. It was. I know it was. You have to know that, too. You know that, right?"

"What I know? You're joking, right?"

When I stayed somber and didn't reply, she continued. "You need to cut the victim act here, Sar. What I know is that I came home one day to find your stuff gone and a note explaining that we couldn't be together because you needed time—that things had moved too fast for you. And I've tried to respect that. I have. I've seen you out on dates—and I kept my mouth shut when all I wanted to do was beat the shit out of the bitch on your arm and take her place. But I didn't. Because you needed time. We kept working together—alongside each other. I made sure you were okay after you drank yourself into oblivion at that bar. I…I…dammit. I'm still as in love with you today as I was the day I came home and found that note. And you don't get that, do you?"

By this time, silent tears were streaming down her face and she was standing toe to toe with me, daring me to answer.

"And for the record, Alex and I used to work together. She was a stripper. She's married and has kids now. She invited me AND Lindsey to go with her family to their house at Lake Tahoe for the New Year. So when Linds told you whatever she told you, she didn't have the full story. And how dare you assume that I would think so little of you that I'd use you that way," she snorted and rolled her eyes. "I guess you still think I use my sexuality to get whatever I want, don't you?"

I reached out to touch her, immediately filled with regret for assuming that Lindsey knew what she was talking about and that I hadn't considered even asking Catherine about the situation. She recoiled in apparent disgust.

"Cath, I…"

"Yeah, I know. You're sorry, right? Never meant to hurt me? Well, guess what Sara? I'm done listening to it. We've been on this merry-go-round for almost a year now and I'm tired. I'm tired of waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and be the woman I need you to be—to be the woman I know you can be. I'm tired of it. So you know what? This is where I get off. It ends here."

She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine.

"I love you, Sara. But I love myself, too. And loving you hurts me too much."

**A/N: **_**One more to go (:**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

It had been nine months since the exchange in the parking lot between Catherine and me. A lot happens in nine months. Nine months in Vegas is like a lifetime anywhere else.

There were no more intimate moments or gestures between us. She had made it clear. She was done with me. She had spent all of those months waiting on me to get my act together and come back to her and I had failed. I had failed so miserably that she had sounded the death knoll on any relationship other than an amiable working one that we might have had.

It was a September evening that found us sitting in an empty lab going over our latest case. We'd been at it for hours, looking over every single minute detail, examining every photograph, reading over interviews. When I say that we were going over our case, I mean going over it thoroughly.

About four hours in to the shift, Grissom came in and sat a bag down in front of me. I looked up and smiled.

"Egg salad sandwich and a pickle--your favorite," Grissom said as he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks," I said as I looked across the table, locking eyes with Catherine.

"Any luck yet?" he ask nonchalantly.

Catherine smirked and sucked her teeth before dropping the folder in her hands and leaning back in her seat, "No, none yet."

Grissom squeezed my shoulder and added, "I'm sure you two will figure this out. You always do. Sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees."

With that, he turned and left. I left the sandwich in the bag and continued looking over the file in my hands.

I could feel her eyes on me.

It was as if every noise in the lab suddenly ceased to exist. There wasn't the sound of footsteps in the corridors or conversations about cases in the hallway. The constant hum of the various machines wasn't echoing off of the glass. Even the low buzz from the fluorescent lights had stopped. I was so attuned to Catherine that I swear I heard her lips parting before she cautiously whispered, "How long?"

I still hadn't taken my eyes off of the file in my hands. "How long what?"

I closed the file and sat it off to the side, finally looking at her.

I could feel the challenge in her eyes as we sat there for a moment just looking at one another. I had played this game too many times with foster parents to give up. She was the first to cave.

"Grissom." One word was all she spoke but the question belied by that one word spoke volumes.

My expression remained stoic. She was the one who had said she was getting off the metaphorical merry-go-round with me. She had no right to ask questions like that or to even be fazed by them.

"I've known the man for…for too long. He's never brought me food. Told me he missed my tush once, but never brought me food. And he's never stood that close to me and held my shoulder as he spoke. So something is going on between the two of you. I know that much. All I'm asking is how long it's been going on."

She was chewing her bottom lip in that cute was she does when she's nervous about what the answer might be to whatever she's asking.

"You're gay. A big ol' lesbian. Why would you want to settle for Gil? He's older than you and has the emotional capacity of one of the bugs in his office or that fetal pig he keeps. Why? Why are you settling for him?"

My shoulders sagged under the weight of her questions. I sighed heavily and pulled my chair closer to the table. I brushed my hair out of my face before looking back up at her and smiling.

"I've wanted to talk to you about this for the last couple of months, but I wasn't sure how. I mean, we went from being enemies to lovers and then, well, I'm not sure that we're as much friends as we are colleagues now," I cleared my throat before going on. "This is tougher than I thought it would be."

Catherine took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the chair she was sitting in. Her eyes were open and she was staring blindly at the ceiling. "Just tell me how long it's been going on. We weren't together when this started, were we?"

"No, no, no, no. Cath, I never cheated on you. I never even thought of cheating on you."

"So after us? Is he the reason you broke up with me? Was it really that you needed time for him and not time from us? I mean, it's not like everyone didn't know that you always had a thing for him."

I didn't answer her. I didn't know _how_ to answer her. There was so much anger in her voice.

She snorted before continuing, "I gotta give you credit, Sidle. You two have certainly kept your little romance quiet. No one suspects a thing these days."

"Cath, we…"

She stood up abruptly, putting her hands up to silence me. "Save it, Sara. I get it. You're with Grissom now."

There were unshed tears in her eyes as she gathered the files she'd been looking through and held them tightly against her chest.

"You know, despite what I said to you that day, a part of me had always hoped that …that we'd end up back together. I guess that was just wishful thinking on my part, wasn't it?"

My heart had never been heavier as I watched her walk away.

XXX

"You didn't eat your sandwich. Was something wrong with it?"

I looked up from my perch in front of my locker to see Grissom standing in the doorway.

"No, I just sorta lost my appetite. Thanks for thinking of me though."

He inched inside the door and closed it behind him. He didn't speak as he moved closer to me and leaned against the lockers with his shoulder.

"Did you tell her?"

I tossed the shirt in my hand heavily into the bag at my feet and began to peel the pictures from the inside of my locker door, dropping them into the bag one by one—except the last one. It was the lone picture I had saved of Cath and me from one of our trips to Lake Mead. I tucked it into my back pocket.

"She didn't give me a chance."

"Correction. You didn't make her give you a chance."

I slammed the locker door and picked up my bag, sitting it on the bench in front of me and zipping it up. I took one last long look around the locker room before unclipping my gun from my belt and dropping it along with badge on top of my vest.

"You can still change your mind. It's not too late." Grissom was forever the optimist and even though the new girl was scheduled to start the next night, he wanted to find a way to keep me.

"Yeah, yeah it is. Look," I tossed the bag over one shoulder and pulled the picture back out of my pocket, "she thinks we're…well, she thinks we're a couple. Evidently you bringing me a sandwich is evidence of the torrid affair we've been having."

We both chuckled.

"I'm sure Heather wouldn't tolerate anything like that," he quipped off-handedly. He turned more serious. "So what's the plan?"

"For once, Bugman, I don't have a plan. I'm just gonna see where I end up and what happens."

"And what about Catherine? What do I tell her when she asks where you've gone—because she will ask? And frankly, Sara, she scares me a little."

I had one hand on the door of the locker room, ready to leave when I turned back around. "Tell her," I paused and smiled, "tell her I carry her heart with me. That I carry it in my heart and anywhere I go, she goes. She'll know what that means."

**A/N: **_Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. _

_The message Sara tells Gil to give Catherine is from one of my favorite ee cummings poems, i carry your heart._


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